A Fling to Steal Her Heart

‘It is. There’re plenty of fabulous cafés, and I enjoy walking or cycling along the river when I’ve had a rubbish day and need to put things into perspective.’

‘That would be often.’ He gave his all to patients. Studying him as he drove out of the airport, shock hit her.

He’s changed.

His face was drawn, his movements heavier, his words spoken more thoughtfully. Why? Another sigh. He wouldn’t thank her for asking so she changed the subject. ‘How’s Pierre?’ His cousin’s son held a special place in Raphael’s heart.

‘In love with the girl next door. Apparently he’s going to die if she doesn’t kiss him soon.’ Raphael chuckled. ‘Everything’s so intense at his age.’

‘Too much so sometimes.’

Rafe had been seventeen when he’d helped Adele during the birth of her son. He’d been driving her through the country lanes headed for the birthing centre when her well-spaced labour pains went out of control. He’d told Isabella there’d been no time for embarrassment with Adele gripping his arm and screaming to do something about the baby. The first birth he’d seen and aided, and from that day on he’d known what he wanted to do with his future career in medicine. ‘Pierre’s now a robust fifteen-year-old, and also thinking of going into medicine. Though not obstetrics. He’s keen on cardiology, though that might have something to do with his heart being in torment at the moment.’

‘You think?’ Shuffling down further in her seat, Isabella stared out the window as they followed the main road leading into the city. ‘This is familiar. I like familiar. It makes me feel I might be doing the right thing coming back.’ She did feel connected to London, something she didn’t get often. Wellington had been the only other place, and Darren’s infidelity had altered that. Sure, he hadn’t been the only one to get things wrong with their marriage, but he had broken her heart by seeking solace in other women’s arms, and wrecked her trust in people.

‘Papa and Maman have returned to live in the family home in Avignon. Dad’s left the bank. It was getting too stressful so now he’s working part time with a importing company and aiming to enjoy time out with the family.’

‘That’s huge.’ Monsieur Dubois had worked long and hard most of his life. ‘It’s great news, isn’t it?’ Then her heart stuttered. Would Raphael move home now? Just when she’d returned to London? When she wanted to spend time with him?

Rafe was leaning forward, his concentration fixed on the road and cars ahead. His tight grip on the steering wheel was another giveaway he was rattled. ‘Oui.’

‘But?’ she dared to ask.

His fingers loosened their grip, tightened again. ‘I’m still not ready,’ he said in a ‘don’t go there’ voice she knew not to ignore.

She closed her eyes and tipped her head back, let the silence take over. Better than saying anything to upset her friend. Apart from his parents almost suffocating him in love she had no idea what was behind his refusal to return home. He seemed more content than in those dark days after he and Cassie broke up, but there were times Isabella wondered how happy he really was with his lot.

The silence became uncomfortable. ‘We had such plans growing up, didn’t we? Nothing turned out anything like them.’ There’d never been any doubt Raphael was going into medicine. He had intended setting up a private practice in his home city, while she’d thought she’d go into marketing, then car sales so she could drive to-die-for vehicles. Running a bar came into the plans somewhere around that time. But nothing had felt right, like something was missing as it was in her family. Then hearing Raphael talking about working with patients and the pain and fear and love that surrounded people when they were sick, she understood she wanted to work with people too. Not by handing them a full glass over a counter, but soothing their fears when they were injured, caring that they got through whatever was frightening them. So she applied to start training as a nurse, and had been the most at ease in her life for the next four years. Until she was qualified, and once again restlessness overtook her so finally, in desperation, she came to London and signed up for the midwifery course. Being there for those babies, and sharing—albeit on the periphery—the love and excitement every baby brought its parents, had made her happier than she’d ever believed possible. Having two options to her career was a bonus, and she had no intention of doing anything else career-wise. It was the one thing she was absolutely certain about.

‘I am so glad you’re here, Izzy.’ Rafe sank back against the seat, and flicked her a quick smile, his knuckles no longer white and tight. Then he stiffened again. ‘Not that I’ll have a lot of free time to spend with you.’

It sounded like a warning of some sort. He wasn’t available for friend time? Again, her heart stuttered. Which frightened her. Raphael was a friend. Couldn’t be anything else. Of course they were never going to be anything else. These oddball jitters just went to show how far out of sync she’d become with what she needed from life. ‘I’ll be busy too,’ she told him with a dollop of self-preservation for her pride. ‘Finding a flat to rent, catching up with the girls, starting my new job.’ A yawn caught her. Bed would be good right now. Damn but she needed some sleep, although past experience told her she was best to stay up till a reasonable hour, and eat a decent meal. Even then, there’d only be intermittent hours of unconsciousness. Glancing over to Rafe, for the first time in ages, pure happiness surged through her. It was as though she had come home, not left it. And she suspected she wasn’t only thinking about London and friends, but Raphael in particular. Whatever that meant, she was too tired to worry about it. She let the silence return. Until again she couldn’t stand it. ‘I can’t wait to see your house.’

He sucked in a breath. ‘You’re going to be disappointed. I’d be lying if I said it’s a work in progress. I haven’t done anything about the paintwork or getting the kitchen altered and the bathrooms modernised. I never seem able to find the enthusiasm or time.’

‘Maybe I can help.’

His eyebrows rose in shock. ‘I’m not talking a small job here.’

‘Have to start somewhere, and if I’m going to get my own place eventually I might as well practise on yours first.’

‘You think?’ He grinned. ‘Afraid I’m going to have to turn your offer—’ he flicked a finger in the air ‘—down.’

‘Coward.’

‘Pink walls and floral curtains are so not my thing.’

‘Mine either.’ Her tastes were more along the lines of pale colours—more white than anything, lots of natural light, big empty spaces. That came from the real estate programs she’d watched avidly back in Wellington when she’d begun collecting furniture for the future house she and Darren were going to buy. ‘Dark blue walls and carpets, a dash of white in the curtains, lime green furniture should do it.’

‘Excellent. We have a plan.’

Isabella smiled. It was great how he said ‘we.’ As if she had a place in his life. But then she always had. Did that mean she’d

be looking for a home in his neighbourhood? Doubt she could afford a dog kennel in Richmond. The idea of moving too far from Raphael suddenly irked, when it shouldn’t. Friends moved around, came back together, moved on. At the moment they were in the coming back together phase. Who knew for how long?

‘Here we are.’ Raphael parked outside a brick row house. ‘Welcome home.’

It wasn’t her home, only a stop gap while she found somewhere for herself, but she’d take the warmth that went with his words and enjoy. Shoving the door wide, she clambered out on tired legs and looked around. Trees lined the street, a dog barked from behind a house next door and puddles glistened in the sun that was making its way out from behind the clouds. Home. Yes, it felt exactly like what she’d dreamed of having in Wellington. A house in a quiet neighbourhood. Throw in friends nearby, and Rafe had got it right when he chose this place. It was perfect.

Nothing’s perfect. There’re always faults.

The warning didn’t dampen the warmth pushing aside her exhaustion.

Following Raphael inside, she stopped and stared at the hallway walls. Eek. ‘Magenta? This is so dark it feels like it’s falling in on us.’ Definitely a fault.

‘Wait until you see the kitchen.’

That colour had to go. Sooner than later. It was hideous. She shivered and traipsed behind Raphael up the stairs with the smallest of her cases in hand. It soon became obvious nothing had been done to spruce up the house for a long time, probably well before he moved in. Every room she peered into was in need of a coat of paint, preferably a very pale, neutral shade to lighten them, and new curtains to match. At the top of the stairs on the third floor he dumped the heaviest of her cases. ‘This is your room for as long as you want it. It’s the best of the two spares, and anyway I use the smallest for an office,’ he told her before heading back down to get the next bag.